


this isn't a ghost story

by sarcasticallyspidey



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: College Student Peter Parker, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover Pairings, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Stranger Things 2, Precious Peter Parker, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, copious amounts of 80s references, i hate the word 'crack' because it makes it sound so unprofessional, these boys need a goddamn break lemme tell ya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticallyspidey/pseuds/sarcasticallyspidey
Summary: It all starts with an essay - and then a trip gone-wrong in the Quantum Realm leads Peter nearly 20 years before his birth.
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Peter Parker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	this isn't a ghost story

It all starts with an essay. 

Specifically, a college entrance essay that Peter's been putting off for weeks. And the deadline only creeps closer and closer by day - it's the bloodthirsty predator on a hunt, out for Peter's blood and livelihood.

For awhile, he pretends not to care. Peter spends the majority of his free time out Spider-manning, saving the day, pulling stray cats out of trees - all that jazz. Other times, he can be found at the Compound with Tony and the newly reunited Avengers; or at Ned's apartment, binge-watching Star Wars or Doctor Who or any of those nerdy shows and movies that MJ always pretends to hate, but watches with them anyway. 

Eventually, though, Peter figures its officially Time To Do The Thing. (Or: May threatens to "tie him to his desk if he doesn't write the damn essay," not that either of them would admit it.) This, in turn, leads him to pour all of his energy on a dreary Saturday afternoon into reading other college entrance essays - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The one Peter likes the most is an essay that relates string theory to the student's experience working as a waitress. Colleges, too, tend to favor essays about personal experiences, or so Karen says.

Therein lies the problem. Half of Peter's life is devoted to another side of him, the better side of him, he thinks - and its a secret he's not willing to share, even if it means getting into the college of his dreams. But what else does that leave? It's not like he can just write about his favorite science-fiction novels, though that would be nice.

He turns it over in his head for awhile. 650-800 words about anything he wants.

String theory. Waitressing. 

It's crunch-time, the highlighted deadline on the calendar is only a week away, and Peter finds himself chugging Red Bulls left and right to keep himself awake. (Aunt May _really_ doesn't want to know how many energy drinks he needs to actually feel energized.) He's in the midst of mulling over the possibility of just not writing the essay, when a big, beautiful lightbulb flashes over his head. Bingo!

The world doesn't know about Peter's spandex-clad superheroing gig, but it does know about his internship with Stark Industries - and since the almost-end-of-the-world, there was nothing SI wanted to understand more than the Quantum Realm. That would be the lead, the cartoon rabbit that would bring him into Wonderland - he just needs Tony's approval. 

_"No, absolutely not,"_ comes his inevitable response. "Pep, honey, are you hearing this?"

"I sure am," says Pepper, a small smile curving its way onto her lips as she lifts her mug of coffee. In the other room, Peter can hear Morgan singing an off-tone rendition of The Wheels on the Bus.

"You want to, what - trapeze around in there for a day, risk your life so you can write an _essay_? It's not Central Park in there, I'll tell you that," Tony continues.

 _Well, of course it isn't, you wouldn't get mugged in the Quantum Realm_ , Peter wants to say. But he keeps his mouth shut and waits.

Pepper, surprisingly, takes his side in the matter. 

"It's a creative idea. It'll definitely get him accepted," she says later, after the sun has set and Tony has taken her outside, on the front porch, to chat. Peter declines to remind them that he has incredible, superhuman hearing - after all, it's not eavesdropping when you can hear everything, every second of the day.

"He can get accepted another way - the kid's a freakin' genius. He can do something else," Tony insists.

"Tony. He's in the safest hands in the world."

And that's where Peter stops eavesdropping in favor of helping Morgan in her heist for more juice pops. But, as he wanders into the kitchen with her little hand in his, he can't help but smile.

It's a simple idea, really. The Quantum suit - which, to Peter's utter delight, has an Avengers insignia on the left shoulder - has been fitted with a timer. After five minutes pass in the real world, that’s his que, time is up and Tony will fire up the tunnel, and drag him back out. 

He has to lap up as much knowledge, take in as many sensory details within those five minutes as physically possible. While, of course, making sure he doesn't screw anything up. Lots of things could go wrong, or so he's been told. 

("Avoid anything brightly colored - you could get sent into another dimension, or another time, anything could happen," Tony had instructed specifically. Peter wasn’t listening.)

The Quantum Realm looks so beautiful - so alight with color, that it takes his breath away. It's like a kaleidoscope, or the twisting and turning of a Rubik’s cube. Creatures that may or may not be tardigrades (those cute little microscopic water bears) float by aimlessly, their stubby little legs paddling through the air like water. 

"Okay, kiddo. Can you hear me?" Tony's voice comes crackling over the comms. 

Peter grins. "Loud and clear, boss!" he says, giving a mock salute that Tony can't see anyway. 

"Sorry, Pete. I've decided I'm never letting you out of my sight again. You don't have to go to college, l can teach you everything you need to know and more."

"Hmm, I don't think I can put that on my job applications."

"We'll think of something," Tony concedes, and Peter swears he can hear the smile in his voice.

The world around him is so peaceful, yet so serene and vivid - it feels like a nature documentary narrated by David Attenborough, only he's the one living and breathing it, narrating it for his own enjoyment. Although, he can't decide what's better - experiencing it himself or seeing the look on Ned's face when he inevitably recounts this adventure.

A prickle at the nape of his neck, a warning, fizzles to life. 

"Hey, Tony... Should I be worried about the water bears possibly, uh, eating me?"

"I'm sorry... come again?" 

He hadn't noticed before, but now it looks like the tardigrades have migrated closer and closer to his position in the realm, and even though they're probably harmless, he doesn't like the thought of them crowding him. He takes a few steps back and Tony calls his name over the comms.

Peter chuckles nervously. "It's fine. I'm fine. I'll just.. give them some space."

"Just watch where you're going, okay? You've got less than two minutes left."

"Relax, Mr. Stark. I've-" he pauses.

Peter was about to say _'I've got this'_ , but before he could get the words out, the dull buzzing in his head became a siren, blaring, screaming: DANGER.

"Pete? Talk to me, kiddo!"

Peter scrambles backwards, barely a semi second before one of the larger tardigrades ambles by the spot he had just occupied. His eyes flutter shut and he breathes a sigh of relief - except that relief doesn't last very long. 

Something (maybe his own clumsiness, though he wouldn't like to admit it) causes Peter to lose his footing and tumble backwards. He expects to hit solid ground, but instead he keeps falling. 

Peter's hands grasp for a purchase that just isn't there - he's descending through an electric blue tunnel, but the 'walls' of the tunnel (for lack of a better, non-corporeal word) aren't like regular walls at all. There's nothing physical about them; Peter reaches towards them, his hand only goes through. 

A startled shriek rips itself from his throat as his surroundings drastically change once more. The sky above is so blindingly bright and brilliantly blue, Peter clamps his eyes shut until he's satisfied that they've adjusted.

But he's still falling.  
And he's  
about  
to  
hit.

Peter's back collides with concrete, forcing the air out of his lungs in a sharp exhale. He thinks, distantly, if he wasn't Spider-man, that would have killed him. But if he wasn't Spider-man, he wouldn't be in this situation at all.

Peter heaves in deep breath after breath, his eyes fixated on the sky above. It was night when he left. The air here, too, seems different - more breathable. In Queens, you don't want to breathe in more air than you have to, with smog and all that, and you sure as hell can't see the moon so clearly - day or night.

_Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore._

Peter presses a button on his helmet and the quantum suit dematerializes, causing his head to smack once again on the pavement below. A groan escapes his lips. He can feel dried blood on his head, from a collision-caused wound that had already began to fade. 

Hazily, he comes to recognize the thump-thump thumping of another person's heartbeat, the shuffling of their feet on concrete. 

It's a boy around his age, Peter thinks. He's skinny and tall (probably much taller than Peter) and he's got a hand on his hip, in a no-nonsense type of way. His hair is dark, a warm brown color that's styled in a way which makes you want to run your hand through it automatically.

"Who the hell are you and why are you in my backyard?" he asks.

Peter has to squint to really see him. The sun frames his face, his body, and it's so goddamn bright that it makes him look like he's wearing a halo. 

"I-I'm Peter," he says. "Is - this is your backyard? I'm sorry, I didn't know. I don't even know where I am right now, to be honest." 

He sits up and rubs a hand over his forehead as a lovely headache blooms behind his eyes.

"You're in Hawkins, Indiana," Mystery Boy says. He pauses, as if he's searching for the right words, and then asks: "Jesus, man - how much have you had to drink?"

"None," Peter says truthfully. He's still a few years shy of the legal drinking age. 

Brown-Eyed Wonder shakes his head, stealing a glance at his watch. "Jesus, shit. I'm gonna be late."

"Oh, I'm sorry - I'll just, uh, get out of your hair," Peter says. The boy looks at him like he's grown two heads - has he?

"Yeah, that's a no. You're real funny if you think I'm just gonna let you leave after that. You fell out of the goddamn sky! You could die, or some shit - I don't know."

"I'm not going to die," Peter insists, and he finds a shy smile forming at the thought of this stranger being worried about his own well-being. "At the most, I have a concussion, but it's fine. I heal super fast."

The boy holds out a hand. "You're still coming with me to work. My friend's coming back today - he can probably help with whatever freaky shit you've got going on."

Even though Peter doubts the truth in that statement, he takes his hand anyway.

"Okay."

His car is old, that's for sure. Peter doesn't know the make or model (he doesn't really know anything about cars, save for the Bat-mobile and Dean Winchester's Impala), but he's not sure they make ones like this anymore. The thing is, it looks brand new - the purplish plum paint-job has not a single scratch to it. 

"Coming?" the boy asks, throwing his keys up in the air and catching them as they fall.

Peter decides to stop ogling the car and get in.

"I'm Steve, by the way," he says, and Peter doesn't have time to respond before the engine fires to life and music blares over the radio. 

_I'll stop the world and melt with you. (I'll stop the world.) You've seen the difference, and it’s getting better, all the time._

Well, that definitely isn't playing on the top charts in 2024. A brief flicker of hope ignites in Peter's chest maybe Steve just listens to the Golden Oldies?

"What, um, what year is it?"

Steve reaches over to turn down the music. "What?" he asks incredulously.

"What ye-"

"No, no - I heard you, just wanted to make sure." Steve shakes his head and squints. "It's 1985. Are you sure you didn't have anything to drink?"

The hope dies in Peter's chest and he looks out the window to avoid Steve's gaze. "Yeah, I'm sure."

A deep frown settles on Peter's face and unshed tears prickle behind his eyes. He blinks rapidly to get rid of them, but a few traitorous droplets sneak out anyway. More than anything, Peter wishes he had listened to Tony.

After what feels like years but was probably less than five minutes passes, Steve's car grinds to a halt in an immensely overcrowded parking lot. Ahead of them, neon blue and pink lights flash the name Starcourt Mall in a font that's so painstakingly 80s, Peter could've guessed from that alone. 

There's some cheery pop song on the radio, filtering through the mall's sound system and fighting to be heard over the roar of the crowd. The ceaseless noise is so loud that Peter's instantly reminded why he doesn't hang out at shopping centres back in 2024 (that and he doesn't really have a life outside of college applications and semi-legal vigilante activities).

They stop at an ice cream parlor called Scoops Ahoy, where a girl in a sailor's outfit is already working behind the counter. She has golden brown hair and cherry red lips that are currently pressed into an unimpressed scowl, and, Peter notices, she looks a bit like Uma Thurman.

"You're late," she greets Steve as he leads Peter to the back room. "Again."

He sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"And this time, you've brought a friend that isn't _actually_ a twelve-year-old," she adds, much to Peter's confusion. Steve seems to ignore her comments, though.

"That.. ray of sunshine is Robin, my coworker. I'm gonna change and start my shift, okay? Just... don't go anywhere," Steve says. Peter thinks there's hidden a please there that goes unsaid. 

He gives Steve a lopsided smile. "I'll be here."

Steve smiles, shakes his head, and steps into the bathroom to change. He comes out moments later in an outfit identical to Robin's, complete with a sailor’s hat that reads Ahoy in curly cursive writing and dorky, wide-leg shorts. Peter presses a hand to his mouth to cover the smile that blossoms over his face.

"You're laughing," Steve says, his tone accusatory and definitely unamused.

"N-no I'm not," Peter says, his voice betraying him as it raises an octave higher than usual.

Steve raises an eyebrow, runs a hand through his hair. "Whatever, Peter," he says, flashing an award-winning smile before leaving to scoop ice cream for the waiting customers. 

Most of the day passes by. Robin and Steve constantly switch between talking to Peter and working at the cash-register. Robin seems like a nice person, too, once you get past the ever-present sarcasm. She's a bit like MJ - they'd probably get along like a house on fire.

"So... do you have anyone you need to call? I think Orange Julius has a phone we can borrow," Steve offers. He's sat in front of Peter, resting his feet on the table, his arms held behind his head. He looks utterly relaxed. "No, uh.. I don't think anyone would be there."

Steve exhales as if he's blowing smoke. (Peter really hopes he doesn't smoke.) "Figures. My parents are always away on shitty business trips, too."

"No, it's not-" Peter starts to say, but something in the front of the parlor catches Steve's attention.

"Sorry, hold that thought!" he interrupts as he's already bursting through the double doors and into the front.

"Henderson!" 

"I'm back!"

Peter follows him, stopping short behind the counter to watch Steve interact with a boy he doesn't know. He's much younger than them, shorter too (though Peter's not very tall in general), and his hair falls in tight brown curls around his face. He's wearing a yellow and green hat that says Camp Know Where.

The two go through the motions of an elaborate handshake, reminiscent of the one Ned and Peter share. A pang of homesickness shoots through his very being at the thought, but he puts on a brave face as Steve waves an arm in his direction.

"I've got someone for you to meet, actually. I think you could help him," he says.

The kid's name is Dustin. Peter's learned that he's a bit of a tech-genius, he even built his own radio tower to talk to a girl (who is also a tech-genius) that he met at summer camp. And he's best friends with Steve. Apparently, that's what Robin meant when she mentioned something about his twelve-year-old friends. It's kind of odd, but mostly endearing - Steve's like an older brother to him, or maybe a cool mom. 

Peter had already decided that Steve was trustworthy. If he's being honest with himself, he decided it the moment Steve offered to bring me to his workplace. And some part of Peter realizes - when he finds his way back home, it won't matter if Steve knows who he is anyway.

"So... you're telling me, you're a superhero? Like Captain America was?" Dustin asks.

"Yeah, uh, yeah I am," Peter agrees. (He's decided to leave out the part about Captain Rodger's icy resurrection for now; correcting Dustin on his use of 'was' would just open a whole other can of worms.)

Dustin turns to Steve. "Is he kidding?"

"I don't know." Steve turns to Peter. "Are you kidding?"

"No. C'mon, seriously - you saw it yourself, you saw me fall out of the sky! You gotta believe me, dude."

"Excuse me if it's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that you're from..." Steve trails off. "What year again?"

"2024."

Steve exhales, rubbing a hand across the bridge of his nose. Dustin finishes his ice cream dish, setting the spoon down with a satisfied sigh.

"I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Peter frowns. But he definitely is not pouting, Spider-Man doesn't pout. (However, Peter Parker apparently does.)

"No, no - I believe you. I'm just wondering how the hell I got wrapped up in this mess again."

"I fell into your backyard," Peter supplies with a hesitant smile.

"Yeah, thanks - I almost forgot," Steve shoots back, although there's no malice in his sarcastic tone.

Peter backtracks. "Wait, wait - what do you mean, again?"

Steve looks to Dustin in a silent conversation, then shrugs and leans forward. 

"Every year, crazy shit seems to go on in this town. Two years ago, it was this - this thing," Steve pauses.

"A demogorgon," Dustin elaborates.

"Yeah, yeah - in the Byers' house, and then last year, there were those dogs-"

"Demo-dogs," Dustin interrupts again, smiling brightly.

Steve shoots him a frustrated look. "Okay, yes, Jesus demo-dogs, and the Chief's kid had to close the portal with her freaky mind powers."

"Well, actually, it's called the gate. And El isn't Hopper's kid, not really," Dustin corrects him.

"Yes really. It's called adoption, shithead," Steve says, rolling his eyes.

"What's the gate?" he asks.

Dustin answers Peter's question with a question of his own. "You said you fell out of another dimension, right?"

He nods. "Yeah..."

"Well the gate leads to another dimension, too - only, instead of it being all tiny and subatomic, like your Quantum Realm, it's a darker version of our world. Eleven opened the gate to this place, the Upside Down, by accident in Hawkins Lab. She was like a lab rat there, it's how she got her powers."

"Your friend Eleven sounds a lot like my, um," Peter pauses, blanking on the word (he wouldn't say _friend_ , but after Thanos happened he wouldn't say enemy either). Steve inclines his head, an inquisitive expression on his face, but Peter pretends not to notice.

He hurries to finish the rest of his sentence. "...teammate, Wanda - they call her the Scarlet Witch because she's able to do some really cool stuff: telekinesis, mental manipulation, you know, those kinds of things."

While Dustin is asking, "Are there a lot of people like you in the future?", Robin pokes her head through the window and calls out: "Hey dingus, you're up!" 

Steve rolls his eyes (Peter's noticed he has a habit of doing that) and picks up his sailor hat from where he left it on the table. "Jesus, I'm coming!"

Dustin clamps his mouth shut firmly as the two switch places, and settles on twiddling his thumbs in attempt to look casual. 

Robin takes the seat Steve was just occupying. "So, Peter - if you're a superhero, what's your superpower? I didn't catch that part."

Dustin and Peter are a mirror image of shared shock and confusion. "I - what, how do you know that?" Peter stammers.

"For people with important secrets, you are both _extremely_ loud," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Once again, Peter's struck with how similar Robin is to MJ - in fact, he's sure she's said that exact same thing to him and Ned in the past. Or the future, depending on your perspective in time.

"Fortunately for you, I'm actually good at keeping secrets. But I want in on your little boy scout troop," Robin goes on.

Dustin looks mildly offended. "It's not a _boy scout troop_ ," he says, in the same tone one would use when describing something incredibly scandalous. 

"You're not, um, you're not going to tell anyone?" Peter asks, just to make sure. His heart still feels as if it's going to beat out of his chest, and maybe do a tap-dance on the floor.

Robin shoots him a look. "I work at an ice cream shop making three dollars an hour. Do you honestly think I have anyone to tell?" 

Touché. Peter relaxes against the back of his seat, his heartbeat slowing to its usual rhythm. 

"What's it like in the future - are there flying cars and all that?" Robin asks.

"Uh, no. None of those. But it's cool, I guess technology really improved. Oh, and education, too! You won't believe me now, but in a few years, they're gonna start talking about Thor in physics, and Tony Stark in engineering. It's wild."

Peter lets out a sigh. "God, I miss it."

Much later, after Dustin has gone home to have a long-distance chat with his girlfriend and the two ice-cream scooping sailors have switched places more times than Peter can count, he finds himself listening to Steve's retelling of the Battle of the Byers Household: Volumes 1 and 2, from where he's sat in the passenger’s side of Steve's car. 

The first time, Steve says, he was just a bystander. He was too wrapped up in a convoluted lovestory with Nancy Wheeler to pay attention to much else (and Peter notices the way his face slowly morphs into a frown at the mentioning of her name). 

As Steve tells wild tales of creatures from other dimensions and a girl with the power to close the door between our world and the next with a simple motion of her hand, Peter nods along thoughtfully and tries not to ask a hundred-and-one questions. Steve doesn't really seem to mind, though. 

"...and why does Billy hate you so much? What'd you do to him?"

" _What'd I do to him?_ Nothing. Nah, Billy's just a grade-A asshole, not much more to it. And I guess - I guess I was an easy target after Nance... you know."  
Steve stares out at the road ahead. Peter doesn't know what to say. 

Steve laughs, but it comes out sad and strangled in his throat. "I wasn't this _King Steve_ anymore, just a dumbass who couldn't even get into college,” he says. 

"I don't think you're a dumbass," Peter says, a little too quickly.

Steve shoots him a dubious look. "Yeah, well - thanks, Peter."

"No, I really mean it," he insists.

Steve doesn't say anything to that.

They pull into Steve's driveway soon after and it's still vacant, just as it was this morning, and absently Peter wonders where his parents have gone off to. It's a big house, much too big and grand and spacious to belong to one person. (Peter thinks it looks lonely.)

They end up eating a shit-load of leftover KFC while watching chick-flicks in Steve's bedroom. And yes, it is as good as it sounds.

_I love this woman and I have to tell her. And if she laughs, she laughs. And if she doesn't love me, she doesn't love me._

Steve points his chicken leg at the television. "I swear to God, man - Andie is such an idiot. She's got this great dude, practically falling all over her, and she goes for Blaine. I mean - what the hell?"

"He is a bit of a dick at the end, though," Peter adds unhelpfully.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Everyone in this movie is a bit of a dick."

"Touché," he replies.

Steve turns his attention back to on-screen Molly Ringwald, but an unusual noise catches Peter's instead.

"Hey, wait - do you hear that?" 

Steve fumbles for the remote. Once it's paused, Dustin's muffled and crackly rings out through the room.

"...you copy? Come in, Steve! Do you copy?"

It takes them a second to figure out where his voice is coming from. Okay, longer than a second - and Peter may or may not tip over the bucket of chicken in the process.

Peter holds the walkie-talkie in the air triumphantly, uncovering it from where it had been hidden in the laundry basket. Steve whacks him on the back of his head with his hand, takes the radio from Peter and speaks into it.

"Yea, shithead, we copy."

Other muffled voices jumble together in the background. After a beat, Dustin replies: "Peter's there with you?" 

"No, I left him on the side of the street with twenty bucks and a bus ticket," Steve quips. "Yea, of course he's here, idiot."

"The Party has decided-" Steve rolls his eyes at this "-that we're willing to help Peter go back to the future, on one condition."

"Heh, _Back to the Future_ ," Peter whispers at the same time Steve asks "What condition?"

"Well, the Party doesn't necessarily believe that Peter's a, know, superhero. So, we're asking for some proof - a demonstration, if you will."

"A demonstration? Does he look like a goddamn circus animal to you?" Steve says.

"It's fine, Steve," Peter says. "Tell him it's okay."

"No - no, it's _not_ okay. You shouldn't have to," he argues. Honestly, Peter's not sure why he cares so much (and secretly, he's really pleased that he does.)

"But I don't mind. They're just kids - just really curious kids."

Steve grumbles, runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. Fine! Where are you shitheads at, anyway?"

"Hopper's cabin," comes Dustin's immediate response. 

"Okay, great. Just great! We'll be there in twenty."

It does _not_ take twenty minutes. More like thirty - and that's being nice about it. But that's largely due to Steve's only directions being "swing a right at an oak tree." In a fucking forest. But they make it eventually.

"Dude, what the hell? You said twenty minutes," Dustin pouts, this being the first thing he says as they walk inside the tiny cabin. 

"Yeah, we got turned around. Thought you'd be fine living an extra ten minutes on your own - guess not." 

"Hey, rude!"

It's small inside, homey, but it feels cramped with all of the people standing around. There's Steve and Peter, Dustin, as well as two girls and three boys that Peter supposes make up their Party. He waves his hand awkwardly.

Dustin waves a hand in his direction. "Right! So guys, this is Peter."

"I thought you'd look different," one of them says. "You know, more..." He flexes his arm in the general 'strong man' gesture. A redheaded girl next to him slaps his arm down. 

"That's Lucas and Max, and then there's Mike, El and Will," Dustin explains, pointing out each one as he goes.

"What's your superhero name?" Will, a short boy with an unfortunate bowl-cut and dorky jean shorts, asks. 

"Uh, Spider-Man."

Lucas speaks up again. "Spider- _man_? You look like you're only a few years older than us." 

"Well, I'm eighteen, almost nineteen, so-"

Mike interrupts before Peter can say more. "Why a spider?"

"I was bit by a radioactive spider, so uh, I guess I drew inspiration from that," he says, and there's a collective gasp from the younger teens in the room as soon as he finishes talking.

While Lucas is yelling, "Jesus Christ!", Mike raises a disbelieving eyebrow and says, "No way,"; Max asks, "Can you, like, show us something?" 

"Um, sure, yeah."

Peter turns it over in his head, wondering how he can prove it to them without the spidersuit and without his trusty web shooters. Then he sees a couch and the low wood ceiling, and it clicks into place.

"Whoa, hey, what are you doing?" Steve asks.

The couch creaks loudly under his weight as Peter step onto it, but as luck will have it, it doesn't break and it is also the perfect height booster to allow him to reach the ceiling. Peter's hands stick on contact, and he pulls himself onto the ceiling with ease.

The group is stunned into silence. 

Peter crawls forward and then drops down next to Steve. "Usually, I uh, have my suit on - its red and blue, and there's a black spider on my chest. So, the arachnid theme is pretty obvious. Oh, and I have my web-shooters."

"Dude, you shoot _webs_?" Lucas asks, his tone a mix of excitement and disgust. "Do they come out of you?"

"No - and why does everyone ask that? I make them, but I left everything back in 2024. Except the Quantum Suit, which I was wearing when I fell here."  
Eleven, who hasn't spoken a word thus far, steps forward and her friends part around her like Moses parting the Thames. 

"When you fell out of another dimension?" she asks, her head tilted a bit to the side, reminiscent of a confused puppy.

"Yeah, exactly," Peter says. "Dustin said earlier that you opened a door between this world and the next, I was wondering - could you do it again? Except, this time maybe you could open the Quantum Realm? Or, even, whatever dimension my home is in?" 

Eleven's lips pull into a small frown. "No. I'm sorry." 

There’s a short pause.

"And I don't suppose you guys have any spare Pym Particles laying around, either."

“Any _**what**_?”


End file.
